Daddy's Little Assassin
by India Maison
Summary: Okay, so this is based off of the idea I had for Wolverine’s teen daughter running away and joining an enemy group of assassins: Deadpool, Mystique, Sabretooth, and Gambit’s teen clone Jean LeBeau. Naomi and Jean LeBeau are mine, the rest are Marvel’s.
1. Deadpool's English Lesson

Chapter One: Deadpool's English Lesson

Sneaking away had been the easy part. Jeannie hadn't noticed anything. It was staying hidden that was hard. Naomi sneaked through the shadows, ducking under boxes, weaving in between alleys. She'd done this a million times before. But tonight was different; she wasn't going to go back.

Naomi was heading for one of the old gas stations. It'd been abandoned years ago, when she was little. With its paint peeling off, and the broken pumps, it looked almost haunted. Inside, there were old game cards, and a few empty milk cartons, maybe a small number of old car parts. The windows were boarded up, nobody ever came there, and most thought it would collapse sometime soon. But Naomi was still small enough to fit through the hole in the garage door.

She climbed over the fence that surrounded the old, abandoned gas station, slipping along quietly, like a mouse. Naomi knew she couldn't attract any attention, not now. She ran across the empty lot, the moon shining across her black hair, reflecting every inch of light off it. She pulled her hood over her greasy hair, not wanting it to get caught on anything.

Sliding silently next to the gas stations wall, Naomi ducked into the little hole in the garage door. Pushing a few pieces of wood aside, she made her way through the tunnel she'd built a year ago.

One last squeeze and she was through. Standing up in the small, decaying store front that made up most of the gas station, Naomi looked down at her body. She'd grown, she realized. She'd outgrow dad soon.

Bending down, she unzipped her black backpack. There was a couple days worth of clothes, $200 dollars worth of baby-sitting money, cat food, some jerky, her favorite knife, and all her arrows. Naomi took her bow off of her shoulder, and unstrung it. She ran her hand along the smooth wood, feeling the inscription on it that was written in Japanese.

_Attempt is sometimes easier than expected. _Naomi remembered the words by heart. She laid the bow down. Turning around, facing the open room, she stared into space for a moment. She thought about her time in Japan when she was little, and then remembered her cat.

"Selene," she whispered. "_Selene!"_

A house cat, spotted like a cheetah and about as lean as one, crawled out from under an old crate. Prancing quietly over to Naomi, the cat rubbed against its master, and then stuck its head in Naomi's bag, searching for the cat food.

"Okay," whispered Naomi. "Okay! I know you're hungry. What, you didn't catch a mouse this week?"

Selene glared at Naomi, telling her everything she needed to know about her cat's week. Pulling out one can, Naomi pulled the tab and opened it for Selene. After it'd been laid on the ground, Selene pounced on it before Naomi had pulled her hand away.

Giggling, Naomi picked up her bow again. She treasured it more than anything else in the world. It had been made in Japan. Naomi first learned of the "Way of the Bow", or Kyudo, when she'd gone to Japan at age four. After begging for lessons from her parents, Naomi excelled at Kyudo. She even entered an international competition. If she wasn't studying, eating, or sleeping, Naomi was shooting her bow.

Finishing her food with a very satisfied look, Selene turned back to Naomi and leaped into her lap. Stroking her cat, the one that wasn't allowed in her apartment building, Naomi wondered if Jeannie had looked into her bedroom. It wasn't like Jeannie didn't.

Slumping against the wall, Naomi pulled out the jerky she'd brought. It was dumb of her not to eat dinner, but most people would think running away was dumb, so they canceled each other out.

Gnawing at the jerky, Naomi planned what she would do next. She could always go to some foreign country. But that would cost money. A lot of money. That meant she'd have to get a job…

Reaching back into her backpack, she pulled out today's news. Her dad always thought it was weird that she liked knowing what was going on in the world. Jeanie always thought it was fine, as long as it was appropriate.

That was another thing; Naomi always called her mom "Jeanie".

She'd always heard her dad call Jean Grey that, and when Naomi was little, she always did what her dad did. That's how she started reading the news to begin with.

She flipped through the articles, looking for something that would pay decently for about two months. After scanning several articles, Naomi discovered that nothing was on there that wouldn't want a legal guardian's signature.

Shoving the paper back into the bag, she tried to remember Molly Hayes' stories of when they were runaways. Molly twelve than, and never managed the finances of the Runaways group.

Mewing quietly, Selene nudged Naomi's hand. Stroking the cat, Naomi knew she had to think of something fast. She was sorting through every corner of her brain, trying to find some recollection of a story that would help her.

_BUDDA-BUDDA-BUDA-BUDDA!_

The sound of a machinegun echoed outside of the gas station.

Jumping, Naomi scrambled to her feet. Selene was tossed off her lap, yowling. She was obviously quite annoyed by the recent turn of events.

Wondering what had just occurred, Naomi rushed towards one of the boarded up windows. Peeking out, she saw a flash of gunpowder and ammunition.

The owner of a machine gun was a short, ugly little man wearing a tattered vest. He looked like he had a bad foot, or that could have possibly been due to the fact there were several bullet wounds in his leg. He was positioned behind a concrete barricade, with his machine mounted on top. Next to him was a large bag filled to the brim with ammunition.

The short, ugly little man with the machine gun was apparently shooting the crap, or at least that's what it appeared like to Naomi, out of another man dressed in a red and black jump suit.

The man in the red and black jumpsuit, who appeared to be holding two pistols, was hiding behind a dumpster that was being torn up by the onslaught of bullets being fired at him. The dumpster was positioned up against an opposing wall, so the man in the red and black garb couldn't sneak away anywhere and save his hide. Naomi thought she recognized the man in the red and black jumpsuit from somewhere, but was still a little unsure.

Watching the events unfold. Naomi almost panicked, but remembered two help little words that were on the front of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: _DON'T PANIC.

Snatching her bow and a few arrows, Naomi rushed back to the window. She nocked an arrow on her bow string, just in case things got out of hand.

Outside, the man with the machinegun seemed to be gaining the upper hand. At least, what appeared to Naomi to be the upper hand; the dumpster was nearly shredded to bits by the blitz of bullets, and the man in the red and black jumpsuit had maybe what appeared to be a hundred different bullet holes in his jumpsuit.

Naomi, now not heeding the words of Douglas Adams book _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, _aimed her bow at the head of the short, ugly man with the machine gun. She didn't want anybody innocent to get killed, and the man in the jumpsuit looked a lot more innocent at the moment than the ugly guy with the menacing machine gun.

Watching as the man with the machine gun neared the man in the jumpsuit, Naomi tried to focus on other options.

However, her mind didn't seem her own. The little evil voice in our heads Naomi liked to call her Immorality had started to shout, but more like chant, in the back of Naomi's mind. Even though deciphering what her Immorality said isn't the easiest of jobs, it sounded a little like this:

"_Kill it! Kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!"_

Naomi tried reasoning with her Immorality, telling it that severe consequences normally ensue when people kill other people. Her Immorality countered that it was bad when you let people that weren't that innocent kill people that seemed a little more innocent than the person who was attempting to kill them.

And Naomi was extremely well known for not being able to win debates with her Immorality.

_. . . _

_Hey! What happened? Eric Poulioette stopped shooting the #$& out of me!_

Deadpool peered over the edge of the mutilated dumpster. Did he care about the wounds that he'd received in his chest? No. Did he care that there was suddenly a long, dangerous looking arrow sticking through Eric Poulioette's head? Yes. So Deadpool stood up and went over to investigate, like the curious kitten that he was.

He stood right above the dead man. He smelled the air. It smelled like bologna. Deadpool always thought that dead people always smelled like Bologna. So that must mean the man was dead.

Pulling a pen and a notepad out of his pocket, he checked something off of a little, scribbled list. He reached down and picked up the machinegun and the bag of ammo. He could use this!

He put the pen and notepad back, and pulled out his car keys. Pressing a few little buttons, he programmed the _Wade-Mobile_ to come pick him up. This was, of course, 2025, so why couldn't he get a little lazy and have _his _car pick him up instead of going a picking the car up himself.

Deadpool thought about how Sabretooth made fun of the name he gave his car. He remembered Victor clearly laughing that when you "wanna maintain a secret identity, ya don't put yer name in yer cars name." He never liked it when Sabretooth mocked the _Wade-Mobile._

"Hey! Are you okay!" squeaked a young person.

Spinning around and pulling out his two pistols at once, which was harder than it looked, Deadpool aimed them directly at the head of a girl probably no more than 14 years old. His eye twitched, and Deadpool tried to come to terms with what had just occurred.

Waving her hands in front of his face, the girl tried gaining Deadpool's attention again.

"Um… Are you okay?" asked the girl again. She had a black backpack on, a bow over one shoulder, and a cat on the other. Her hair was black and shiny, and she was about 5 feet 4.

"Huh? Oh… Uh—yeah, I'm fine," stated Deadpool after another minute of confused silence. He was still holding his pistols, both pointed at where the young girl used to be, even though she'd moved out of the way about three minutes prior.

"Do you know who shot Eric Poulioette?" Deadpool asked.

"Who?"

Deadpool pointed to the man on the ground with the arrow through his head.

"_Eric Poulioette," _pronounced Deadpool, letting the name roll off his tongue. "Rolls off of my tongue nicely, almost like diarrhea or bazooka. Do you know who shot him?"

The girl looked down at the dead man, then back up at Deadpool. She had the most confused look on her face.

"Who do you think, wielding a bow and arrow, could have shot him?" she replied sarcastically.

Deadpool paused for a moment, looking around.

"Umm…" He pondered. "That cat?"

He pointed to the cat on the girl's shoulder.

Putting her hands over her face, the girl sighed, annoyed and even more confused.

"I DID!" she exclaimed. "That's why I asked if you were okay!"

Deadpool looked at her, then the cat, then the dead man, and the back at the girl. The little hamster that ran his brain was working especially hard tonight.

"But—you—you're just a _kid!" _he stammered. "You couldn't shot a guy in the head with a bow and arrow and just, you know, _kill _him. I mean, that's just wrong! And illegal, but don't lecture me on illegal…"

"Wanna test that little theory?" invited the girl, tapping her footing and folding her arms in annoyance. "He was trying to blast the crap outta you! I mean, I couldn't exactly tell who the bad guy here was, but—wait. He shot the crap outta you! Why are you alive?"

"Good question!" exclaimed Deadpool, sarcastically, holding two thumbs up. "Bad time to answer it. I have to leave now. You can give me a call by clapping three times and shouting _chimichanga!"_

Spinning around, Deadpool ran straight in the other direction, down an alley. He left the girl standing there, looking bewildered.

Deadpool kept running. He then thought to himself that he forgot to put his car keys back and had dropped them when he pulled out his guns. He also then realized that the kid now possessed his car keys.

Spinning around _again, _Deadpool ran straight back to where the girl was standing. Only she wasn't standing any more, she was sitting shotgun in the front of the _Wade-Mobile_.

"Hi!" greeted the girl. "Dropped you keys."

The girl waved them in front of Deadpool's face. Cocking his head to one side, he tried to figure out exactly what this kid was trying to pull.

"My stuffs in the back," continued the girl. "I'm Naomi, by the way. So you can tell me all about your healing factor and all that on the car ride to whatever state you live in at the moment."

"Wait…" Deadpool was having a brain fart. "You wanna come _with _me?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna come with _me?"_

"Yeah," said Naomi. "You asked that already."

"No I didn't," replied Deadpool. "The writer put 'with' in italics on the first question and 'me' in italics on the second one."

Naomi gaped at Deadpool for a moment, and then resumed the conversation.

"Yes, I wanna come with you 'cause I've got nowhere else I really need to be at the moment," she explained. "_And _I figured out who you are: Deadpool! You're all over the S.H.I.E.L.D. files I've hacked into."

"Okay, see when you said 'And I' how you had 'and' in italics--" Deadpool noted. "Wait… You hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Yeah," replied Naomi.

"So, you wanna come _with _me? And notice how 'with' is in italics."

"_Yes,_ in italics, I wanna come with you."

Deadpool smiled and hopped into the driver's seat. Naomi handed him the keys, and Deadpool shoved them into the ignition. Deadpool realized that this kid, sitting next to him in the _Wade-Mobile—_

"Okay, you see 'Wade-Mobile's' in italics?" said Deadpool as he interrupted the narrator. "Now that was because 'Wade-Mobile' is a name. Oh, $#!%, I forgot to put 'Wade-Mobile' in italics."

"Whatever," Naomi mumbled. "Don't lecture to me about English."

"Okay-dokay," chimed Deadpool. "Guess what?"

"What?" inquired Naomi.

"No, guess," replied Deadpool.

Naomi paused for a moment, which then lead to a minute.

"FIVE!" announced Deadpool.

Anyway, Deadpool realized that this kid, sitting next to him in the _Wade-Mobile _was probably the only person in the world at the moment that could probably pull off annoying Sabretooth worse than he or Jean LeBeau could. So, naturally, Deadpool was gonna take Naomi along to Louisiana with him.


	2. Jean and the Contest

Chapter Two: Jean and the Contest

The _Wade-Mobile _is a Hummer. A _custom _Hummer. It coast Deadpool a boatload at the time, but for him, it was completely worth it.

It was bullet proof, which made Deadpool happy. It could still go 150mph with the bullet proofing, which made him ecstatic. It had a heck of a lot of built in weapons and defenses, which made him blissful. But the thing that really made Deadpool go stir crazy was the custom paint job, with the Deadpool insignia on the hood, the cup holders, and the red and black leather seats.

Naomi, who hadn't jumped out the car in hysterics like Deadpool was expecting, was sitting shot gun next to him as he drove.

Deadpool was talking about his views of the universe, and Naomi was sitting patiently, listening to every word. She thought Deadpool was pretty just the optimistic version of Marvin the Paranoid Android from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

"Hey," interrupted Naomi right as Deadpool was getting to his views on vegetarians. "I thought you said we're going to Louisiana. That'd be south, but we're going north."

"Cause I'd just like to tie up those vegetarians and—Huh?" said Deadpool, interrupted mid-thought. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that I gotta pick up that ectomorphic, wimpy kid Jean LeBeau. He came with me this time."

"What do you mean by 'this time?'" replied Naomi, curiously.

"Well," began Deadpool. Naomi sighed; he was going to continue talking. "We got this thing, me and the other assassins, that we get to _share_ Jean whenever we need him. He's got this power that makes things go BOOM so we just take turns using him when we go a-killin'!"

"Oh," mumbled Naomi.

Turning the _Wade-Mobile_ down an old alley, Deadpool stopped the car in front of an old, crumbling apartment.

A young boy, probably about Naomi's age, peered out of one of the ancient windows. He smiled as he saw Deadpool step out of the car, and ducked back inside the build.

"Stay here, Girr," Deadpool remarked as he ran inside the apartment building to Jean.

He'd taken up calling Naomi "Girr" after she told him her last name was Growl. He'd made fun of it at first, asking what parents would give their kid a last name like "Growl". Naomi then tried to explain that they'd combined their last names, but she was now beginning to realize how stubbornly annoying Deadpool could be.

Naomi saw a gasping Deadpool stumble out of the building carrying a large box full of various guns and knives, with ACME CO. painted on the front in big red letters. Behind him, Jean walked out carrying a smaller box filled with ammunition, and he had a LAW over his shoulder.

"Girr!" gasped Deadpool under the weight of the box. "Open—the—trunk—!"

Searching the dashboard for the switch that would open the trunk, Naomi pressed down on the switch. The trunk flipped open, but smacked the box Deadpool was holding. He lost his balance and fell under the weight of the weapons. Naomi heard this as "ARGH! UH!" _CRUNCH._

Deadpool screamed like a girl at first, and then screamed at Jean.

Naomi unlocked the car door and leaped out, and ran behind the car. Deadpool was crushed under the weight of the box, and was squirming like a worm underneath it. Jean was trying to lift it off of him.

"Nah!" screeched Deadpool. "Get this #$%^&! Thing off of me!"

"Help!" yelped Jean.

Jean LeBeau _was _a thin boy; with that wimpy look you see in boys that size. He had on a black under suit, with a dark grey trench coat over it. The trench coat had a blue fleur de lis on each shoulder. Naomi didn't want to say it out loud, but she sort of thought Jean was cute.

"Then why did you type it up there for me to see?" objected Deadpool.

"Huh?" said Naomi and Jean.

"Never mind."

Naomi and Jean shoved the box off of Deadpool. Wheezing, Deadpool got to his feet. He felt his ribs, trying to see if anything was broken.

"I'm—_alive!" _confirmed Deadpool. "That was sooo your fault, Girr."

Sighing, Naomi helped him load the large box into the trunk. Jean also loaded the ammunition and LAW as well. Everyone got back into the _Wade-Mobile_, and Deadpool drove off.

"So, Jean," began Deadpool. "This is Naomi! I call her Girr, 'cause her last name is Growl."

He then turned to Naomi.

"Girr, this is Jean LeBeau. He wets himself every time he sees Sabretooth and has a thing for Mystique. You can call him Bone-Ace if you think _Jean's _to girlie a name."

"Hey!" interrupted Jean. "I _do not _have a 'ting for Mystique!"

"But you didn't deny wetting yourself so, HAH!" retorted Deadpool.

"God _Wade_," mumbled Jean. "Anyway, hello ta you, my new, pretty friend Naomi."

"Hi," she replied. She reached back from the front seat and shook Jeans hand. She noticed Jean's light Cajun accent, and smiled as he continued talking.

"I s'pose I should warn you dat Wade Wilson, or Deadpool, as he is known, does _not _shut up," continued Jean.

"I do!" remarked Wade. "When I'm asleep!"

"Na, you don't," replied Jean. "You talk in your sleep."

Wade grumbled something under his breath and drove a little faster.

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere," asked Naomi.

"Hmm," thought Jean. "Well, maybe you do; Ma father, or clone, or whatever, was da adventurer Gambit, 'o the X-Men. Could dat be where you seen me from?"

"Probably," replied Naomi. "Didn't Gambit _die _a year or so back?"

"Yes," admitted Jean, with a smile. "_Yes _he did. Glad ta be rid 'o him."

"I know what you mean," added Naomi.

Bursting into the Avenger's Mansion, the elegant, red haired woman rushed across the foyer. She literally _flew _up a flight of stairs, turning down a long hallway, searching every room for her husband.

Finally, opening up a large, looming, hard oak door, she interrupted a meeting of people.

"Jeannie!" a short, gruff man called out.

"Logan!" Jeannie screamed as she rushed across the room.

All the Avengers, from Iron Man to Thor, looked with concern as Logan and Jeannie met up in the middle of the room.

"Jeannie," voiced Logan. "JEANNIE! What's wrong?"

"Our daughter," she gasped. "Our daughter's missing!"

"What do you mean you hate HGTV?" argued Wade.

"They have that _gay _dude on there," responded Naomi. "It's just _wrong_, sending all those messages…"

After three hours in the _Wade-Mobile_, the conversation between Jean, Wade, and Naomi had sort of gone downhill. It started when Wade began talking about all the things nobody wanted to know about Sabretooth. Then he started talking about what his room was like. Naomi and Jean actually managed to have real side conversations while Wade was off on his little fantasies.

"That's the point!" stated Wade. "I'll show you when we get to Louisiana. Sabretooth and Mystique will get all comfortable with each other and—you know—and you just turn the TV to HGTV and they scatter like flies. OH! That reminds me; Naomi, you gotta fight Jean so we can see which one of you guys is better than the other!"

"What?" Asked Naomi.

"Wha?" Asked Jean.

Wade slammed his foot on the brakes. The _Wade-Mobile _jolted to a stop. Naomi's head slammed against the dashboard, and Jean flew out of his seat, launching into Wade's seat. Wade laughed slightly, and Naomi thought she heard him say under his breath "seatbelts, suckers."

"God," groaned Jean. "Sabretooth's a better driver 'dan you!"

"I take that as a compliment!" mocked Wade. "Get out, we need to have a competition!"

Five minutes later, Deadpool, Naomi, and Bone-Ace were somewhere in a forest off of Interstate 95. Deadpool had given each of the kids a pistol. He then went on to explain the rules.

"The first one to shoot the other wins!" exclaimed Deadpool.

"Say what?" objected Jean. "I'm not gonna shoot—her!"

He pointed directly at Naomi, who was twirling the pistol in her hand.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Yeah," added Deadpool sarcastically. "Why not, Bone-Ace?"

"It's—just—dat—," stuttered Jean. "AAEEE!"

Jean gripped his hand in pain. It was bleeding, and hurt like nothing else before. Deadpool smiled, and Naomi handed the gun back to him. She'd shot him, just barely grazed Jean, but enough to win the contest.

"Girr officially wins!" taunted Deadpool, doing some sort of demented victory dance you'd expect someone on meth to perform. "Point one for Team DEADPOOL!"

Naomi took a step away from the slightly demented man (hah, slightly).

"I heard that!" screamed Deadpool.

She gave Wade a look of partial fear for herself, and for him. Meanwhile, Jean was still moaning over his gunshot 'wound'.

"What do you mean 'Team Deadpool,'" asked Naomi, inquiringly.

"Mystique brought Jean back with her," answered Deadpool. "So Jean's part of Team Raven, while _we _are Team Deadpool. Rocks, right?"

"No," replied Naomi. "I'm gonna go help Jean."

Deadpool hung his head, disappointed about Naomi's response.

"Why does Mystique get a team member that likes them…?" he mumbled.


	3. Home

Chapter 3: Home

"WE'RE HOME!" sang Wade.

"Oh God," mumbled Victor, sitting on the front porch, previously attempting to have a nap.

Wade walked up the driveway, carrying only his favorite weapons and leaving the rest for Jean and Naomi, who were just instructed to put them in the shed. He did another weird dance you'd only expect a man on meth to do, and strode right up next to Victor.

"Did ya miss me, Vic?" asked Wade.

"No," Victor replied.

"Oh, _come on_," badgered Wade. "You're only taking a nap because you missed me."

"I didn't miss you, Wade," groaned Victor.

"Reeeeally?" drawled Wade. "Because I think that—URK!"

. . .

"Hey," interrupted Jean, as he was helping Naomi carrying a large box of various weapons to the shed. He was pointing up at the porch. "Vic's chokin' Wade again."

"Oh, yeah," observed Naomi. "Does he do that a lot?"

"Yeah, all da time," replied Jean, smiling.

"Nice house, by the way," complimented Naomi.

The house, which was more like a mansion, was huge. If you've ever seen the Oak Alley Plantation, or the Destrehan Plantation (Google those), it looks like that. Beautiful, white columns held up the porches, which were situated right above a swamp. White paint covered every inch of the house, even the gazebo that lead off to the speed boats.

"Thanks!" said Jean. "Mystique said it used ta belong ta da Assassin's Guild before day let us use it."

"Cool," remarked Naomi.

Both teens finished putting all of Wade's unnecessary gear in the shed, and walked back up to the car. Naomi got her things, and then followed jean up to the house.

. . .

"Vic—" gasped Wade, pointing at Naomi and Jean walking up the stairs. "New—kid—"

Victor looked over and saw the teenager walking up the stairs. He had both hands around Wade's neck, and Wade was wriggling in his clutches.

Victor released Wade's skinny neck, and Wade dropped to the ground, panting for air.

"ONE too many times in the last twenty-four hours," claimed Wade, standing up, using the porch railing for support. "I will not have any lack of oxygen, again, ever."

"Who's the new kid?" asked Victor with a sneer.

"Naomi Growl. I call her Girr. She killed a guy! She _shot _Jean in a contest, so that's a point for Team Deadpool!" explained Wade with a scarily happy tone to his voice.

"Hi, Vic," greeted Jean.

"Hello," said Naomi.

Victor sneered. He didn't like people, except for Raven, and he especially didn't like new people.

"Why're you here?" Victor asked.

"I _said _she killed a guy!" reminded Wade.

"I killed his target," continued Naomi. "So I thought that since I'm good at it I'd come here."

Victor chuckled. He leaned in closer to Naomi. "You don't know the first thing 'bout killin'."

"Jean hasn't killed anyone," argued Wade. "She's done better than _him!"_

Jean sighed, and walked inside the house.

"Whatever," mumbled Victor. "I don't care who ya bring here as long as they don't get in the way."

He walked inside, and Naomi and Wade followed. Naomi found herself in a huge foyer, with twenty-foot ceilings, and a large, elegant staircase leading to the second floor. To the left was what appeared to be a TV room, while to the right was the kitchen. Wade walked into the kitchen, and Naomi tagged along.

"Hey, Raven!" shouted Wade.

A woman, with blue, slightly scaly skin and blood-red hair, was sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning a few guns.

"What Wade?" Raven replied.

Wade grabbed onto Naomi's backpack and tugged her into the kitchen. He pointed from himself to her back to himself several times.

"Team Deadpool, Raven," stated Wade. "EAT IT!"

"Oh, wonderful," mumbled Raven. "A _new _kid. About time, and at least I won't be the only girl in this place."

"Well that's good," replied Naomi. "I was afraid you'd hate me, too."

Raven stood up out of her chair, walked over to Naomi, and put her arm around the teen.

"What's your name," Raven asked.

"Naomi," blurted Wade.

Raven and Naomi glared at him.

"Naomi," said Naomi.

"Well, Naomi," continued Raven. "Vic hates _everyone_, except for me, so just get used to that. He'll warm up, eventually."

"Or he'll kill you," remarked Wade.

Raven glared at Wade, and shook her head in embarrassment

"You survived a 20 hour _car ride_ with him?" she asked Naomi.

"Barely," explained Naomi.

"Anyway; so, you stick with me, and I'll show you the ropes—"

"Like how to be a hooker," interrupted Wade.

Raven glared at him, again. Wade was about to add something else when Raven, valiantly, kicked him in the shin. He screamed. You could hear Victor laughing in the other room.

"Anyway, as you can see, Wade'll just confuse you and we _all _think Jean wets himself." Raven finished.

"I DO NOT!" screamed Jean from another room. He walked back into the kitchen; his head was hung slightly lower than before, giving him that horrible puppy-dog look that makes you feel sorry for someone, only Jean had that enraged look on him that gave him more of a puppy on steroids appearance.

"Just show Naomi her room," insisted Raven.

"Dis way…" mumbled Jean.

Jean walked out of the kitchen, and Naomi followed. She thought she heard Raven say something vicious to Wade in a hushed tone, but that could have simply been him moaning.

Both teens walked up the large, elegant staircase, and Jean took Naomi down the left hall.

"Ya might wanna be on da East side 'o da house," mentioned Jean. "Raven and Vic got dare rooms on the West and—let's jus' say you'll never 'tink of a _chair _da same way again if ya near dare room at night."

Naomi paused for a moment, collecting whatever perverted thoughts slipped into her mind after hearing that.

"I think I've got a pretty good idea…" Naomi remarked.

"Whatever yer 'tinking," replied Jean. "Was what _I _was 'tinking before I made da mistake 'o gettin' a room next ta dares!"

Shaking her head, trying to imagine what was worse than what she'd pictured in her mind, Naomi followed Jean to a room at the end of the hall. It had a white door, just like all the other rooms in the house, and the shiny, bronze doorknob reflected all the light seeping in through the window at many artistic angles.

"Dis is da only one dat should be decent," cautioned Jean as he opened the door. "Da rest are filled wit explosives and guns and stuff dat Wade can't fit in his room. Don't go in dare, by da way."

Naomi peered inside the room as the door swung open. It was a fair sized room, with white walls and brown, wooden floor boards. It had wood floors, and a closet with, yes, another white door. A small, twin-sized bed sat in the corner, next to two elegant white windows. Other than the hanging lights, the walls were completely bare.

"Home-sweet-home," mumbled Naomi.

Jean smiled and walked away, down the hall to what must have been his room.

Naomi stepped into the plain room. The only thing that crossed her mind was that she'd need several demotivation posters, and a coat of paint. And clothes.

She took off her backpack and laid it on the bed. Selene, her cat, was inside, quiet as ever. Naomi unzipped it and Selene jumped out and stretched. She rubbed against Naomi, and Naomi stroked the cat's soft fur.

Deep inside Naomi's subconscious, behind her Immorality, past her most involuntary mannerisms and habits, after all of the Ninjutsu and Kyudo lessons she'd taken over the years, in the very deepest and darkest recesses of her mind, a single thought stood out amongst everything on her mind right now:

This place felt, in one way or another, like home.


	4. Good Morning

Chapter 4: Good Morning

The sun stuck its little light fingers through the blinds. Victor hated when this happened in the morning.

That meant he had to get up, because it wasn't dark enough for him to sleep. It meant he'd see Wade making pancakes, likely in his underwear, with the retarded chef's hat. It also meant that _new _kid would be there. That stupid girl.

Victor stretched, cat-like as always, and rolled out of bed. He landed on the floor with a loud thud.

"Victors up," came the sweet, mocking voice that belonged to Raven, making its way up to the second floor, to Victor's room. He certainly did love his enhanced senses, and Wade _was _making pancakes.

Standing up, groggy, he pulled on his usual day clothes; a t-shirt, jeans, and whatever shoes he hadn't destroyed.

. . .

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" shouted Wade as Victor made his way into the kitchen.

Victor growled, which was his usual reply.

Naomi and Jean were sitting at the table, eating pancakes, sipping orange juice, and talking about something no adult really cared about. Naomi looked up at Victor, and then averted her eyes quickly as he glanced at her.

"You want pancakes, babe?" asked Raven as she walked towards Victor.

"Do I ever want pancakes?" he replied.

Everyone, even Naomi, knew the answer to that question.

Victor sat down at the table and reached for some bacon. Jean happened to be nearest to him at the time and scooted a few inches away. This was just another case which proved to everyone else that he did wet himself ever time he sees Sabretooth.

Wade was singing _It's a Small World _in that annoying, high pitched voice that Beaker the Muppet has_, _and thankfully wasn't in his underwear this morning. Raven was going to take Jean and Naomi to Madrid with her, which meant that Victor had to stay home with Wade.


	5. Our Girl

Chapter 5: Our Kid

"Why would she do this!" screeched Jeanie.

"I don't know," reasoned Logan. "I—I don't know… Just calm down, okay?"

Both Logan and Jeanie were still in the Avengers Mansion. Everyone was rushing, trying to help their friends. Iron Man was using every cent of his money at his disposal to do whatever possible. Ms. Marvel had just off the phone with the X-Men, and everyone else was sorting out the details with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Why couldn't she have just turned out like Franklin Richards?" babbled Jeanie, shaking all over, her hair in a mess.

"You mean the kid that was perfect until he was eighteen and then fried his brain on drugs?" questioned Logan.

Jeannie glared at him. She wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be all right. That Naomi didn't run away, or—

Her thoughts were so smeared. She couldn't even control her powers, and was floating around to room.

"Hey guys," greeted Ms. Marvel, walking up to the couple. "I talked to Frost. She says she's looking for Naomi right now."

"Her powers even haven't emerged!" shrieked Jeannie. "She's defenseless and—"

Logan shook Jeannie out of her mind. He pulled her to the floor.

"Jeannie," stated Logan sternly. "Our kid's a prodigy at Kyudo, and does fairly well at Ninjutsu. She's a smart girl. Ya think she's gonna get herself killed? No, she's better than that."

Jeannie looked into Logan's ocean-blue eyes, and remembered just how much she loved him. He pulled her into a hug, and Jeannie hung there


End file.
